December 4.

I implore your attention. It is all over with me. I can support
this state no longer. To-day I was sitting by Charlotte. She was
playing upon her piano a succession of delightful melodies, with
such intense expression! Her little sister was dressing her doll
upon my lap. The tears came into my eyes. I leaned down, and
looked intently at her wedding-ring: my tears fell  immediately
she began to play that favourite, that divine, air which has so
often enchanted me. I felt comfort from a recollection of the
past, of those bygone days when that air was familiar to me; and
then I recalled all the sorrows and the disappointments which I
had since endured. I paced with hasty strides through the room,
my heart became convulsed with painful emotions. At length I
went up to her, and exclaimed With eagerness, “For Heaven’s sake,
play that air no longer!” She stopped, and looked steadfastly at
me. She then said, with a smile which sunk deep into my heart,
“Werther, you are ill: your dearest food is distasteful to you.
But go, I entreat you, and endeavour to compose yourself.” I
tore myself away. God, thou seest my torments, and wilt end them!